


Through fate parted, through science united

by oneanother



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Canon Related, Everyday Life, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, depictions of non-violence related mild injury and blood, just in case, many thoughts and feelings, mature tag for future chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27119932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneanother/pseuds/oneanother
Summary: A record of events happening in Luteces’ lives after their first meeting in 1983.
Relationships: Robert Lutece/Rosalind Lutece
Comments: 9
Kudos: 8





	1. A calculated risk

“ **ILLNESS PERSISTS FOR LUTECE’S BROTHER! ENIGMATIC PHYSICIST STILL YET TO APPEAR IN PUBLIC** ”.

Rosalind closed the latest issue of the _Columbia Evening Journal_ and placed it back on top of the neatly sorted stack. Today, Mr. Lutece was given the honors of being mentioned only on the second, and occasionally even the third page of most newspapers, if at all. It was a good result. The less attention they got at the moment, the better.

“ **LUTECE’S BROTHER** ”. Yes, disguising him as her twin made perfect sense. There simply wasn’t a more convenient or logical way to explain Robert’s sudden presence to the citizens of Columbia. Alleged presence, one should note, as nobody has really seen the elusive Mr. Lutece since his presumed arrival in the evening hours on October 8th. Of course, it would be odd for anyone to expect Rosalind to create any sort of commotion around it — especially since this was supposedly their first meeting after many years of being separated and focused on their respective scientific research and work. It was perfectly understandable that they would prefer to celebrate their reunion in private. Besides, it’s not like Madame Lutece was ever known for being particularly open about the details of her personal matters and family.

Despite all the secrecy, still the news has spread out about his indisposition. What mysterious injury or condition Mr. Lutece had been suffering from had not been specified to the public, but it was not awfully uncommon for the first-time Columbia travellers to require a couple of days to adapt to the slightly different barometric pressure present at the altitude the city was suspended at. His continued absence did not seem to raise any suspicion so far, which Rosalind was grateful for. All her “twin” now needed was peace and quiet.

Her… twin. How else could they explain their physical resemblance? Their near identical manner of speech? All of the other similarities and parallels, as big or small as they may seem? Rosalind recalled one of the tear experiments they’d run weeks prior, where she had a chance to observe him from afar for a couple of moments. She noticed in his behaviour a lot of mannerisms that she was aware of indulging in herself; some other ones made her wonder if she also performed them without realising it. Did she also furrow her brow like this when facing the most complicated section of the equation on the board? Did she tap her fingers on the surface they were resting on while lost in thought? They’ve established the theory before, and now it was time to empirically test it: just how many constants did their lives share? How many variables set them apart?

Naturally, it was near impossible to tell right now. Robert was in no shape to hold a prolonged conversation, let alone conduct experiments. Not after what happened on _that_ night.

Rosalind still felt torn about their arrangement with Comstock. If only there was another way to achieve their goals… At this point though, it was evident that they had to stay here. With Columbia’s industrial and scientific progress so far ahead of the world below them, there was no place on the surface that could match similar conditions and allow their work to progress in the same way. And Comstock — as much as she despised the man and everything he stood for — was still willing to provide any and all resources they needed. Only for his own reasons and needs, of course, but it did grant them the means to proceed with their work. She was willing to allow this prophecy business of his to continue, as long as it meant that she and Robert could continue and advance their research.

Having to make hard decisions was nothing new for Rosalind. She had to go through quite a lot to be where she was now; and being one of very few women in the field of science, it meant she had to express a level of determination and persistence much beyond that of her male peers in the same position. It shaped her to be rather pragmatic, and not sentimental. She wasn’t one to dwell on a decision once she made it. And yet… this particular issue has been weighing on her mind as of late. Letting Comstock view the alternate realities through the use of their technology to do his preaching was one thing, but trading a child… Even though DeWitt agreed to the deal — initially, at least — were they going too far following the orders?

What would he ask of them next?

She let out a deep sigh. What’s done is done, and there was no use in pondering over the ethics of that decision right now. Whenever Comstock’s next request would come, and what they would do about it — they will cross that bridge when they get to it. As for the child, it belonged to this reality now; and in that moment, perhaps as selfish as it felt to admit it, Rosalind felt grateful for that. Her gaze returned to the stack of papers on the desk once again. Of course, Columbia’s greatest mind’s own brother coming to the city was unusual and curious news as well, but it was their beloved Prophet’s long awaited heir’s birth that completely overtook the citizen’s attention and became the main topic of conversation for what was now days, and would probably still go on for weeks to come. People gathered and celebrated in the streets, rejoining in happiness for Father Comstock’s and First Lady’s miracle child’s arrival, singing and sending prayers to their entire family. Good. It helped to keep the attention away from their own matters.

She glanced at the clock across the room and winced. Half past eight? Today’s press review took much longer than the usual. She needed to get going right away if she were to make it before the stores closed. Rosalind got up from the desk and headed for the hallway. Making her way up slowly, as to not make too much noise, she climbed up the set of stairs and approached the door of the guest bedroom.

The walls inside were softly illuminated by a small bedside night lamp. The curtains were drawn; it helped keep the room quiet from the bustling street outside.

There, amidst the comfortable sheets of a king size bed standing by the wall, lied Robert.

From afar, one could almost say that he looked peaceful; upon closer look however, it became clear just how much turmoil he must have been going through in the past days. Dark circles have formed under his eyes, and his hair was in disarray. Prominent stubble was now adorning his jaw; Rosalind was sure that he would soon ask for her assistance in removing it. He was resting propped up on an array of pillows to avoid the risk of choking on blood, in case he began hemorrhaging in his sleep. So far his attacks have never happened while he was unconscious, but Rosalind would rather take every precaution she could think of.

She observed him for a long-drawn moment. His chest was moving up and down slowly, breathing steadily. It had been a long and difficult day for him, but now at last his expression was calm. She smiled softly. Finally, some much needed relief. He must have been awfully tired.

She glanced at the miniature clock on one of the nightstands. Should really get going now; there might not be enough time to run errands in the morning. She took one last cautious look at Robert to make sure that he was still sound asleep, then returned downstairs and put her coat on. She should be back soon enough; it wasn’t a terribly long walk after all. With that thought, she pushed the front door and stepped outside.

The streets of Emporia were quite calm this late in the evening. Rosalind enjoyed going out at this hour; many people have already returned home to spend time with their families, while others were attending night events. Being acknowledged as Columbia’s greatest scientist had its benefits, but it also meant that she would be recognised whenever she went. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to stop her in the street to ask about her latest book, the inventions she was currently working on, or recently — to express concern about Robert’s health and wish him a prompt recovery. Rosalind appreciated the courtesy, but truth be told, at this moment she would rather not be interrupted at all.

Lutece Laboratories stood right in the heart of the market district in downtown Emporia; the building was situated by a small plaza, surrounded by a variety of stores, shops and salons, all offering a variety of exclusive goods and services. An ornamental fountain sat right in the middle, constantly emitting a gentle murmur of water. Rosalind passed by it and headed down the stairs, into the lower part of the market. She shuddered as a chill came over her suddenly. The air was starting to get much colder at this time of the year; soon they would have to think about purchasing some warmer, fall and winter suited clothing for Robert.

Her thoughts returned to him again. It had been almost a week since he came through, and it seemed that he was slowly starting to feel better now. “Better”, she thought to herself; well, at least compared to the state she found him in back then when—

Rosalind pushed away the memories of that particular moment. How could it have happened? They spent so much time calculating what felt like every single outcome, possibility and risk of this operation, and yet they did not predict this coming. Did they misjudge the odds? Were they, in the end, irresponsible? They did theorise that closing the tear behind the person crossing it could cause some sort of disturbance in their consciousness — but they could not accurately pinpoint just how much one’s identity, memories, and awareness of their origin were tied to the mind itself, and how much of it was granted and remembered through a connection kept through the still open window to the other side. This matter simply wasn’t something that could be precisely estimated hypothetically — it could only be proved through performing the experiment itself. It was only now that she knew just how grossly they underestimated the scale of this issue in their measurements, and how dire the consequences were.

It would appear that the condition Robert was suffering from was, for the lack of a better term for it, a trans-dimensional identity crisis. His mind was struggling to recognise itself in this new reality; he was experiencing intense headaches and confusion whenever he was awake. Likely as a result of the strain that was being constantly put on his brain, he would often hemorrhage from his nose profusely. It seemed that he was simultaneously perceiving existing as himself and herself, processing both of their memories at once. It was difficult to watch him suffer such severe pain and distress.

The unfortunate circumstances of their first meeting did not discourage Rosalind however, even if their reunion took on such a bittersweet turn because of it. It was still exciting to finally welcome him on this side. After weeks of communicating through their Morse-code-Lutece-field method, and then only a couple of glimpses at each other through unstable tears during the tests they’ve run, he was now here, in the flesh, sharing the same space. The same universe. The man who was and was not herself. Was it an act of narcissism to go through with it? Why was she even so determined to meet him in the first place? Was it simply the natural progression of her interest and research in quantum realities? Becoming part of the theory herself: living proof of the constants and variables spread across the multiverse. It was, after all, the act of both of them conducting the same experiment at the same moment in their respective universes that resulted in them establishing contact in the first place. What an exciting opportunity that was; finally, someone matching her enthusiasm and curiosity about science, and in the same branch of it no less. She had already achieved so much just by herself — how much more could she accomplish now, sharing her laboratory with another mind equal to hers? With another Lutece?

But the newfound scientific opportunities… that wasn’t all. There was much more to their connection, and she knew it stemmed from much deeper within. Understandably so; after all, it was only natural for people of similar interests and mindsets to get along. And in that regard, it was rather safe to assume that there were no two other people on the entire planet in this moment who shared more similarities than they did.

Although still very much weak and confused, Robert did seem to be making small steps towards recovery with each day, being awake and able to hold a conversation for longer periods of time now. Rosalind cherished these moments; it was so pleasant to see his true self shine through all the disorientation. Recently he even started to display some of his dry humour about the whole situation, never failing to make her smile. But the joy only lasted until his face twisted in pain again, foreshadowing another attack. It hurt deeply having to watch him go through these episodes, knowing there was no way to ease his suffering. All she could do was stay beside him, whether he was aware of it or not. She would never leave his side and let him suffer the misery alone, and was always there for him when the attack finally subsided, while he was distressed and confused, to explain what just happened, as well as where — or who — he was. She would proceed to watch over him until he calmed down or fell asleep, and only leave once she made absolutely sure that he was okay.

A recurrent worry sank in. Was he ever going to truly fully recover? It wasn’t in Rosalind’s nature to linger over _what if_ s, and she would usually push these thoughts away as soon as they arrived; this time however, the issue was difficult to simply brush away. Was it truly possible for someone from a completely different reality to fully integrate into a new one? And at that, one where a version of them already exists? It’s not like she could walk into the library, reach for a medical book detailing this condition, and read through the chapter about treatment, manners of rehabilitation or the possible prognosis. How much longer was this going to take? Weeks? Months? A sudden wave of dread came over her as she pictured Robert having to endure this torment for such a long time.

She flinched suddenly as the loud sound of bells rung from atop of the Grand Central Depot nearby, interrupting her train of thought. 9:00 P.M. The place she was going to was closing at this hour; thankfully, she was now only across the street from it and could see the light still glowing inside.

The sudden distraction helped her clear her mind. No, she couldn’t let herself wallow in these thoughts any more. Not like it would be of any help either way. It was now important to focus only on what could be done to improve the situation. She walked up the small set of steps to the entrance. Rosalind furrowed her brow. If her hypothesis was correct, it would mean that she could be able to obtain the means to greatly improve the rate of Robert’s recovery. And she would find just what she needed to prove her theory right here. She pushed the heavy door open and stepped through.

The inside was pleasantly warm. The walls were lined with sleek wooden shelves displaying variety of goods, with storage boxes and barrels neatly organised on the floor in front of them. It was one of the smallest stores in this part of Emporia, humbly tucked in between much bigger and posh stores. Rosalind preferred the modest, honest atmosphere it had over the boasted and extravagant feeling the other ones offered. She cared not for being treated in a servile manner.

Behind the counter in the middle stood a tall, elderly man; his attire, though still elegant, was showing signs of age. One could tell that he must have worn it for a long time. Grey streaks have found their way into his dark hair and well-groomed muttonchops. Tired kind eyes were staring at her from behind thick glasses.

The small bell above the door rung as she entered. He smiled as soon as he saw her.

— Ah, Madame Lutece, good evening! I suspected I would still see you today.

— Good evening to you as well, Mr. Ruthford. I was afraid I wouldn’t make it before you closed. Terribly sorry to keep you at this hour.

The man shook his head reassuringly.

— I’ve noticed that you’ve been visiting more and more late recently, so I already decided I would wait for a couple of minutes past the closing time, in case you were on your way. My own hypothesis to test. — He grinned. — Nowhere close to the theories you work with I’m sure, but personally I’m still proud of it!

Rosalind smiled. She was fond of the man; he always reminded her of one of her uncles she remembered from her childhood who always encouraged her to pursue her interest in science. Similarly, Mr. Ruthford always expressed curiosity and enthusiasm about her work, even if he did not seem to fully understand the particulars of it. Perhaps it had to do with his own son pursuing a career in science as well. Regardless, it was charming.

— Thank you very much for making the exception for me. I appreciate your courtesy.

Mr. Ruthford waved his hand. — Please, do not mention it. I know you are very busy these days. Now, what will you be needing today? — He reached for a bag from under the counter. — I do sincerely hope that Mr. Lutece is feeling better today?

Rosalind slowly nodded. — Yes, he’s been improving with each day. I’ve actually come to get something just for him.

— Oh? — He adjusted his glasses. — I’m afraid I only have most basic of medicines available here. Perhaps if you visited the pharmacy on Harmony Lane, they have the largest selection of—

— There’s no need to worry, Mr. Ruthford. — She smiled. — Your store will do just perfectly.

✵✵✵

The air was even colder on the way back to the labs. She adjusted the lapels of her coat with one hand, carrying the grocery bag in the other.

When Robert woke up earlier in the afternoon today, he asked for a cup of tea. It wasn’t the first time he requested one, but something unusual happened this time; she observed as he slowly rotated the cup on the saucer in his hands, staring at it intently. When asked if it wasn’t to his taste, he didn’t answer right away, seemingly lost in thoughts; finally, he stated that the taste was palatable, but it was “not right”. They spent a good couple of minutes discussing the details of what exactly he meant, before his memory finally shifted back into place.

In his universe, as his preference, he would always have his tea with lemon.

Another variable to add to the list. While she did not particularly dislike it, it was not something she would have often at all. Interesting. Rosalind made sure to note all of the possible variables down right away; it was only a hypothesis at this point, but she suspected that if she could learn more of these personal preferences of his, and present him with them prepared in a way that he was familiar with, it could potentially help to ground his thoughts and regain his identity. They were small steps, but they were better than nothing. At least, it would surely help to make him feel as comfortable as can be.

Rain was just starting to fall when Rosalind finally arrived back at the labs. She locked the front door behind and headed to the kitchen. There, she took the lemons out of the bag and washed them in the sink, smiling to herself. Maybe a good night’s sleep combined with a breakfast served with his favourite tea would evoke even more memories about his preferences? Either way, she was just happy to be able to provide him with something he was fond of, even if it was this modest. She glanced at the clock in the hallway, and suddenly felt very exhausted. It would be wise to retire for the night soon. She would need to be up early in the morning to prepare everything before Robert woke up.

Now It was just about time to check on him one last time before—

 _Thud_.

She came to a halt and listened.

— Robert?

No answer. The house was completely silent.

Maybe the sound came from the outside? Some parts of the city were slowly travelling into their morning-scheduled positions at this hour, occasionally connecting on the way; one could sometimes hear it in the distance. Or perhaps someone just slammed a door shut in the plaza? It could’ve as well simply been her own mind playing tricks on her, as tired as she was right now.

But a much more disturbing thought crossed her mind. A bad premonition settled in. Although she wasn’t one to panic, immediately she made way for the stairs. The dead silence continued as she reached the door and looked inside.

She first noticed the empty bed. Then, as her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw him.

Her heart sank in.

On the floor, facing down, was Robert. He was lying perfectly still. In the dim glow filling the room, she could clearly see the scarlet puddle of blood pooling underneath his head.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✵ Thank you for reading! This is actually the first fic I’ve ever written.  
> ✵ The first chapter is just sort of an introduction/prologue to the whole situation the Luteces are in; feelings coming soon!  
> ✵ I’m not sure how many chapters there will be in the end, but I already have many ideas saved that I’d love to cover.  
> ✵ English is not my native language, so please forgive me if there’s any errors!  
> 


	2. Recollection

— I thought you _died_!

— Frankly, I thought I died too. Great minds really do think alike, don’t they?

— This _isn’t_ the time.

Rosalind emerged from the guest bathroom across the room, carrying a medium-sized water-filled bowl and some clean washcloths. Careful not to spill any of the liquid, she placed the items atop a wide mahogany stool next to the nightstand. Robert observed her movements from the edge of the bed where he was seated; he rubbed his eyes, getting accustomed to the much brighter light now filling the room from an ornate lamp on the ceiling.

— Yes, you’re… right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound inconsiderate. Or to make you worry.

She moved the wooden stool closer to him, then rinsed one of the washcloths in the cool water and wrung it firmly before wiping his forehead with it. She was hoping that he would not notice her hands still shaking a bit.

— Apology accepted. I’m just… relieved you’re fine. Apart from this, I suppose. — She moved the cloth away from his face to reveal a decently sized bruise on the edge of his forehead. — I dread to imagine what it’s gonna look like tomorrow, when it fully blooms.

She brushed two fingers over the surface of the injury, inspecting it; Robert immediately squeezed his eyes shut and recoiled in pain.

— Do be careful! It’s painful enough as it is, without—

The rest of his words did not reach Rosalind. Although her pragmatic disposition drove her to focus on ensuring that Robert was unscathed first and foremost, now that the situation has calmed down, she found herself absorbed with worries once again. Even if the the danger has passed for now, the implications of what just happened were highly concerning.

— I was nearly sure that your attacks couldn’t affect you while you were sleeping… while you were unconscious. I always dreaded it might happen, but I assumed… — She sighed. — This complicates things. Do you remember anything at all? How you fell out of the bed?

— That’s… not what happened. — Rosalind gave him a questioning look. — I got out of the bed fine, in fact. But when I took the first step forward, I think… I think it struck me then. The memories overwhelmed me, and I fell to my knees… and then the blood… I must have passed out. — Robert clasped his fingers together and slouched forward, supporting elbows on his knees. — That’s when you found me, I suppose.

— I see. Considering how fatigued you were after the last attack, I was confident you would be resting until morning. Frankly, you fell asleep while we were still talking. — She furrowed her brow and folded her arms. — You shouldn’t be getting up by yourself in this state. Why didn’t you call out to me?

— Well, I… I didn’t think of it. I woke up, and… I just… — He looked away, as if in shame. — I couldn’t remember who I was. _Which_ one I was. I was so confused. — His voice got much quieter. — I just wished to look in the mirror. Just to make sure.

Rosalind stared at his face in the silence that now grew between them. Even though Robert was a man much bigger than her, he seemed so small now, hunched over and frail; she wished awfully to comfort and reassure him, but could not find the right words for it. Instead, her gaze drifted to the dark stains of dried blood on his shirt as she tried to imagine the horror he’d been through. At loss of his own identity, bleeding and falling down to the cold hard floor, completely alone as his consciousness faded away. Her heart bled knowing how scared he must have been. For a brief moment, she wondered whether the pain she was feeling was the result of compassion alone, or if they shared some sort of quantum mutual emotional bond; such possibility brought up yet another concern in her mind.

Rosalind kneeled down to clean up the remaining blood from the floor to occupy herself with something. She knew that she had to ask Robert about this matter, regardless of how afraid she was to hear the answer. She gathered all of her courage to voice her thoughts.

— Do you think my presence makes it worse? Am I having any sort of… impact on this condition of yours? Interfering with your self-perception, perhaps?

Robert contemplated her words for a long, tense moment; she sighed quietly in relief as finally, he slowly shook his head.

— No, that’s… not quite how it works. It’s all in my head. And you… well, when I see you standing there, before me, then… then that means that you’re there, and I must be me. I mean you. I mean me. — He winced and rubbed his temples.

Rosalind stood up and took a step towards him. — I’d say that right now is not the ideal time to be pondering over the particulars of our quantum dualism, though I’ll admit I’m very pleased to know that the nature of our bond doesn’t further your suffering. I only wish to help.

She put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly; Robert nodded and closed his eyes. To her mild surprise, he returned the gesture; his hand reached hers and rested on top of it. They grew somewhat accustomed to each other’s touch during the past few days, as the effects of his condition meant that he would often need to rely on her help in performing the simplest of tasks. This, however, felt different. This touch did not arise from necessity; it arose from sympathy. They spent a long-drawn moment in comfortable silence, both quieting down from the tension of the emergency, feeling each others support and trust. She spoke first.

— Do you wish to see it still?

Robert furrowed his brow. It seemed as if he hesitated for a moment before looking her in the eyes again.

— Yes. I would very much like to. I haven’t seen myself yet… on this side. Except as you, of course.

Rosalind nodded. Almost a week ago, after his first attack had come and gone, they discussed this subject in particular. He agreed that, at least for the time being, it was best for him to not view his reflection directly; this way they could ensure his comfort and safety whilst tending to his sanitary needs. They suspected that suddenly confronting his own image could trigger another attack. This theory, as it stood, was about to be either confirmed or denied.

She held her shoulder out to him as usual, waiting for him to take it. As he wrapped his own arm around hers, she helped him to his feet, allowing him to support part of his weigh on her to keep his balance. They slowly approached the door across the room.

The floor and walls of the guest bathroom were covered in small white polished ceramic tiles; they gleamed luminously, reflecting the light coming in from the bedroom, as well as some of the dim moonlight seeping in through two big, ornate windows. Even though they did not turn the light inside on as they stepped in, it was still bright enough to see around.

A simple white cloth hung on the wall to their right, clearly hiding an angular shape underneath. Rosalind left Robert’s side and came up to it, grabbing the edge of the fabric. She looked back at him; he nodded once, his stare focused on the obstructed object in front of him. In one smooth movement the cloth came off, revealing a framed ornate mirror.

Robert’s eyes widened.

— _Oh_. — He stuttered, clearly astonished. There was a moment of silence. — Is it too late to change my mind? Because I _never_ want to see this again.

He stepped closer to inspect his face in detail; his hair was the first to gain his attention. He ran a hand through it, as if trying to arrange it in its usual fashion, but quickly gave up as it became obvious just how persistently the unruly strands opposed his efforts. Instead, his focus shifted to his jawline, now lined with a week's worth of stubble; he scratched his chin briefly, studying the look so unfamiliar to him. His personal preference was to always keep clean shaven. A minor sensation of pain flickered through his head as he traced his fingers over the surface of the shirt where his own blood had left its mark. At last, his attention came to the bruise, which he seemed to deliberately ignore until now; carefully brushing aside a streak of hair to reveal it, he took a glance at it. Leaning back a bit, he supported both his hands on either sides of the sink below the mirror, and spent a long-drawn moment just silently staring into the tired eyes of his reflection.

— I do not intend to sound dramatic, but this is quite possibly the absolute _worst_ thing I’ve ever seen in my life. _Ever_. Good lord, how do you cope with having to see this every day?

Rosalind shrugged. — I manage. And you ARE being dramatic, brother. It could always be worse. — She gently patted his back.

— Yes, it definitely could… just imagine if I woke up one of these fine days to discover that I’ve developed a beard like that of Father Comstock’s. — He shuddered exaggeratedly. — Just like that, in my sleep. What I’m seeing before me right now truly is nothing compared to the likes of such horrors.

She smiled politely. — Not what I meant. Either way, I’m glad to see you’re in good spirits despite all that’s happened.

Robert returned to studying his appearance. For a brief moment he hung his head down, as if escaping his own gaze; when he looked at the mirror again, his expression appeared more serious.

— I’ll have to do something about this. I can’t just allow myself to be… like that. — He gestured at the mirror. — No matter what state I’m in. I mean, it sure doesn’t help my mood to know that I look like a regular vagabond. I need to become my usual self again.

She touched his shoulder. — Of course. We can think about that tomorrow. For now, I think both of us could use a good rest. And before that, you could use a shirt change. This one belongs in the laundry.

Robert nodded.

She helped him return a couple of steps back to the bed. As he sat down, she walked up to the ornate wardrobe cabinet by the wall and reached for a clean shirt — the last one left. They were not a perfect fit, as Rosalind only took his measurements roughly to obtain some clothes for change as quickly as possible. Until he recovered enough to go outside for proper shopping, these had to do. She handed the shirt to Robert; to provide him with privacy and comfort, she turned around to collect the water bowl and washcloths to put them back in place. She was standing above the running sink in the half-lit bathroom when she heard his voice; it was a tone softer than usual.

— I’m sorry… genuinely. I know how much trouble I’ve already caused for you. How bad it is even without… incidents like this. — He sighed, buttoning the shirt. — I wish it could be just… normal. As well, it’s embarrassing that you have to see me fall this this low. It does not suit a gentleman.

She heard gentle rustling of the bedsheets and deduced that he was getting back in bed.

Pulling the duvet up to his chest, Robert leaned back, settling in his usual spot among the pillows. Sinking deeper between them, he sighed and closed his eyes as feelings of remorse overcame him once more. Even though these attacks were beyond his control, he still felt responsible for the distress they caused her. The last thing he wanted was to become even more of a burden.

His somber train of thought halted abruptly as he jumped in surprise; he suddenly felt a hand touching his face. Rosalind brushed a stray streak of hair off his forehead. He did not hear her approaching at all.

She smiled apologetically, realizing she startled him. Picking up the stained shirt and roughly folding it in two, she took a seat in the mahogany stool by his side. — That will be enough guilt for one night, please. We both know you didn’t mean for it to happen. Though I do appreciate your courtesy, there’s no need to apologize. I suggest you stop torturing yourself over it and get a good night’s rest instead. You will feel much better. — Her voice, though still soft, now took on a more serious and determined note. — And you should know that I’m never angry with you when these incidents happen. I will mend you no matter what it takes. Or how long it takes.

Robert smiled weakly and closed his eyes again. This time, his mind was at ease. Feeling increasingly weary, he listened to the soft rustling of her skirt as she got up from the stool, then her footsteps as they progressively got quieter the further away she walked from the bed. Just as she stepped through the door and turned the ceiling light off with a faint click, she heard his voice reach out to her once more.

— If you don’t mind… I would like to have breakfast downstairs tomorrow. I want to remember what it’s like to sit at a table again. If you would be as kind to help me in that journey, that is.

She rested hands on her hips. — Feeling venturesome, are we? I think it could be arranged. Should do you well to stretch your legs more as well. — She snapped her fingers, suddenly remembering her idea. — Ah, speaking of breakfast… you may find it served with something special tomorrow. Nothing too grand perhaps, but I hope it still sounds—

Rosalind paused mid-sentence, realizing that her words were not reaching him anymore. She leaned on the door frame, observing him for a moment; there was no sign of pain on his relaxed face, and his chest was moving up and down at a slow, stable pace. He was peacefully asleep once again. She smiled to herself and decided it would be wise to follow suit.

✵✵✵

— Sweet or savory?

— Sweet. Next.

— Apples or oranges?

— Both sound good?… If I had to choose one, I’d choose an apple, I guess.

— Noted. How about… eggs? Hard-boiled, or soft-boiled?

The scraping sound of chalk on board resonated in the air time after time, occasionally accompanied by a low electric hum coming from one of the many apparatuses and engines scattered around. The fact that the entire living room has been essentially converted into a laboratory did not bother them in the slightest; on the contrary, they felt quite comfortable in such familiar environment. Right behind their backs stood the very centerpiece of the room, the magnum opus of their work; the massive Lutece device, a machine capable of accessing other realities at one’s whim. The very gateway through which they could meet. For a wonder of science that it truly was, right now it sat there quietly, unpowered and unassuming, although still impressive through its sheer size and intricate construction.

Rosalind stood by one of many blackboards dotted around the room, writing on it and occasionally stopping to note something down in her journal, while Robert sat at a long dining table nearby. Before they settled down for breakfast this morning, they spent nearly an hour and half bettering his appearance; as a result of their efforts, he looked like a different man today. The morning sun coming in through the tall window glinted off his red hair, now cleaned and neatly combed. He rubbed his freshly shaven chin, observing her erratic movements between the board and scattered notes and papers, as expression of concern gradually grew on his face.

— I would very much hate to interrupt the fun, but your tea should be getting cold by now. And you haven’t eaten anything at all. — He pointed at the empty plate across the table. — Where exactly are you getting all this energy from?

Rosalind scrunched her nose. — I have to make the most of your memories while you’re responsive. The more data about these variables I collect, the better treatment I can offer you. And I’m not really hungry yet.

Robert shrugged. — Suit yourself. I’m certainly not going to deny myself the relish. — He reached for another slice of bread.

She observed his actions, feeling somewhat contented. — You appear to be in a much better condition today. No hemorrhaging since yesterday as well… surely that’s a record?

He paused spreading butter on bread to look her in the eyes and tapped the side of his head. — Perhaps things got reorganized in there last night? Like… shock therapy. I’ve read about something like that in a periodical once. Aside from that, I can’t help but suspect that _this_ had something to do with it as well. — He smiled, raising his teacup.

Rosalind returned the smile. — I’m glad it’s to your liking. But please lay this shock theory to rest. I think we can both agree you can do without more head trauma.

He nodded in agreement before returning to devouring another slice of bacon. His appetite seemed unparalleled today; it was a good sign. Though he was still physically weak and needed her help in moving downstairs, he has never been as active and responsive for this long before. She made a mental note to emphasize on it in her journal later.

Rosalind glanced at the clock on the wall and put the piece of chalk back in the holder. — Today’s newspapers should be delivered by now. I wonder what new, titillating gossip they’ve got to report about you this time.

Robert blinked in surprise. — Newspapers? How on earth do they know I’m here? — He scratched his chin, evidently lost in thoughts. — …Or even that I exist, for that matter? I haven’t left this place at all.

She rubbed her temple in annoyance. — Our _dear_ Father Comstock was generous enough to announce your arrival to the entire city a couple of days ago. Columbia’s special guest of honour, as he put it. — She groaned. — He expressed profound regret that you couldn’t be present at the Lamb’s baptism ceremony, but noted it was understandable due to your condition, and—

— Lamb? — He raised an eyebrow.

— The child. Anna.

Robert’s eyes widened as a memory suddenly shifted back into place. The fork he was holding fell on his plate with a clatter. His face grew pale; a single drop of blood landed on his shirt.

— Good lord, how could I have forgotten about her? Do you know how she is? Going through what I’m experiencing here, for an infant… surely that could prove fatal. — He nervously gripped a napkin, wiping his hands erratically; in truth, he kept it ready in case more blood appeared.

Rosalind noticed the crimson dot now marking his shirt and tensed up, but did her utmost to remain calm. — Comstock asked for my expertise earlier this week. She’s… okay. Apart from the wound, but it seems to be healing fine. She’s not sharing your difficulties, no. — Rosalind furrowed her brow in thought. — She never existed in this universe in the first place… no memories to provoke dissonance. Assuming that a child of this age would even possess the level of self awareness developed enough to cause the same effect. — She folded her arms. — That’s all I know. With everything you’ve been going through… I wasn’t sure whether you forgot about it, or simply didn’t wish to relive the memories of that night. I didn’t want to bring it up and risk you suffering another attack.

Robert remained quiet for a long while. At last, he placed the crumpled napkin down and clasped his fingers together, supporting his hands on the table.

— That… calms me down. Somewhat. I just hope… I hope we’ve made the right choice.

— Robert… — Rosalind sighed. She considered the right choice of words to use before she spoke again. — What’s done is done. We can’t undo it now. And if I recall your account of the situation correctly, DeWitt was an alcoholic living in a rundown flat that doubled as his office. Not exactly the best conditions for a child to grow up in, from my point of view. Here, by comparison, she’s adored by this entire city. — She briefly glanced at the buildings outside through the window. — I’m not sure if this arrangement was the best decision we’ve ever made either, but we should consider both sides of the matter while we’re at it.

Robert turned his head to face the window, staring at the sky in the distance. — Yes, I suppose… that’s one way of looking at it. Either way, I don’t expect it possible to know the definitive answer to that question just yet. I suspect only time can tell the full consequences of entirely replacing one’s reality with another.

They spent a prolonged moment in uneasy silence, both deep in thought about all of the the events, decisions and choices that led up to this moment. At last, Rosalind came up to the table and took a sip of her tea; as anticipated, it was completely cold. Nevertheless, it still helped quench the dryness of her throat.

— I’m going to check the mailbox for the papers. I shall be back in a minute.

She left the room, leaving him alone among the gentle ambiance of the machines.

Done with eating for now, he decided to inspect his surroundings. The last time he’d been here, as the circumstances had it, he did not have a proper opportunity to do so. With curiosity, his gaze travelled from the intricate devices, over the threads of tangled wires and cables connecting them, through to engines and various instruments lined on desks and shelves, followed by piles of books, notepads, vials, flasks… Many of the objects seemed oddly familiar, and he realized that he owned their equivalents back in his own universe. The room contained everything a proper research hub should be equipped with, and more. The unorthodox merger of a laboratory set up within the confines of an elegant, upper-class living room could strike an average person as odd, perhaps. To him — to them — everything was in perfect order.

At last, his interest focused on the eponymous Lutece device. Even though they designed it together, it’s never been constructed on his side; as such, he has never properly inspected it up close before. He meticulously studied and traced every little detail of the construction, comparing every switch, gauge and cable with the blueprint sketch in his mind. He recalled his very last memory before his first attack: seeing it powered up, alive with electricity, with the portal to his world suspended and open in its very centre. He remembered watching the tear close, as in slow motion, becoming narrower yet narrower while Comstock and DeWitt fought through it, until…

A sudden flash of pain coursed through his head. The memories of that particular moment overwhelmed him momentarily; the horrible headache and confusion, the sight of blood, cries of the helpless child echoing in his head as—

— Robert.

He shook his head, coming back to his senses. Turning around to face her, he intended to thank her for disrupting his intrusive thoughts; as soon as their eyes met, however, he felt uneasy. It was clear that something was wrong.

— You must see this. — She rushed towards him, hastily unfolding one of the newspapers she was carrying. As she made it to his side, she laid the newest issue of the _Minuteman Gazette_ on the table in front of him; he quietly mouthed the big, bold letters forming the headline on the front page.

“ **PUZZLING MYSTERY IN COLUMBIA! STRANGE FLICKERING PHENOMENA SIGHTED ON HARMONY LANE** ”.

  



End file.
